Chapter Seven, Part Two

Chapter Seven Part Two has been updated just below the first part. It can be found here. Enjoy! I’ll see you all in two weeks 🙂

 

An Extra Note: For those of you wondering about what Arnav is thinking, he will voice his thoughts soon, I promise!

Chapter Seven – Both Parts Up (mature)

Note: Once again, this chapter has mature content. Happy Reading!

-***-

I stand there frozen, mentally cursing the raging hormones that have brought me to this state.

 

Damn him.

 

“Khushi? What are you-”

 

I cut him off by throwing myself into his arms, sinking my hands into his wet hair and tugging him down to a fervent kiss. His hands rest limply at his waist, completely shocked by my assault.

 

I pull back and look at him, my entire body trembling with heady desire. We’re both breathing heavily, and we stand in the door, staring at each other for a poignant minute.

 

He pushes me back against the door, slamming it shut as he takes my lips in a desperate kiss. His hands reach for the pin holding my hair in the bun, tugging it off and tossing it away. I vaguely hear it clatter somewhere, but I’m too focused on alleviating the already pounding pressure between my legs.

 

He lifts me up, dropping me on the couch before he leans over me again. His towel has come loose, and I tug at it with my fingers, letting it drop to the floor in a heap.

 

His hands make quick work of my underwear, pushing it aside and sinking his fingers into me. My skirt falls over his hands, and I arch my hips, relishing the feel of his skillful fingers against me.

 

He seems to sense my need for release, and doesn’t waste any time. His fingers rub the throbbing ball of nerves, stroking it until I’m falling apart, my impassioned moans splitting the silence in his apartment.

 

He gets up from the couch, disappearing into the apartment for a minute. I can hear him rummaging around, and he comes back with a condom in his hands. He hands it to me, and I slide it on, my entire body flushing as he groans at the touch of my fingers.

 

He takes my lips in an intense kiss, pulling at my hair as my mouth opens underneath his. We fall back on the couch, with me leaning over him, my hair falling around his face.

 

I trail my lips down his skin, dragging my tongue against it. His skin is still moist from the shower, flushed a light red. I suck off the remaining droplets, and his muscles are taut underneath my fingers.

 

I circle a tentative finger around his nipple, watching as his eyes close tightly. I bring my mouth to it, grazing my teeth lightly over the sensitive skin. He groans, his hands skimming over my covered breasts as his head falls back against the pillow.

 

“Khushi…”

 

My name is thick on his lips, and I recognize that he’s done playing. I settle myself over him, sinking down slowly. His hands clutch my hips tightly, and I begin to move uncertainly.

 

The feeling of him underneath me, completely naked, gives me a sense of control I’ve never felt. He guides my covered hips with his hands, lifting me slightly as I take him into me again and again.

 

His fingers dig into my waist as he reaches his peak, groaning in satisfaction as his body shudders beneath mine. I press forward, and within minutes, my entire body courses with untamed passion as I clench around him again.

 

I fall against him, completely exhausted. My shirt is soaked with the sweat of exertion, and he wraps his arms around me, curling me into himself.

 

I ignore the niggling voice at the back of my head that tells me I’m making a mistake, that this whole thing is wrong. We haven’t discussed anything, and I had sworn to never give in.

 

But this burning need is something I can’t overlook, and for once, I feel relaxed. I’m tired of constantly worrying about the consequences of my actions, and it feels good to let go of my inhibitions and embrace a little recklessness.

 

I swallow the uncertainty, and slip into a peaceful, satiated slumber.

 

-***-

 

I wake up on Arnav’s couch, alone. I’m instantly gripped by worry, and I search the room for a sign of him.

 

Right as I’m about to call out for him, he walks in, holding two cups of steaming chai. He’s wearing a pair of low slung, grey sweatpants and a tight tshirt, and I forcibly avert my eyes.

 

The smell hits my nose, and I suddenly realize that I haven’t eaten all day. My stomach grumbles in protest as I take the cups from him, and he raises an eyebrow.

 

“Hungry?”

 

I nod bashfully, and he grins. I’m momentarily struck by how good he looks when he smiles, lighting up his entire face. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone and dialing a number.

 

“Chinese okay?”

 

I smile my approval, and he quickly places the order. We’re sitting cross legged on the couch facing each other, and I find myself unable to meet his eyes when he puts the phone down.

 

“So… What did you come here to tell me before we were otherwise… Distracted?”

 

I fight my blush as a smirk curves his lips, a naughty glint in his eyes. I open my mouth to ask him about what this… Thing between us is, but I think the better of it and swallow my words.

 

He’s waiting expectantly, and I hastily search my brain for a valid excuse.

 

“Um… Er… Rajjo’s leaving.”

 

His eyes betray his shock, and I feel a small burst of satisfaction at being able to surprise him.

 

“She is? Why? I’m not that unattractive, am I?”

 

He looks at me innocently, clearly fishing for compliments, and I glare at him reproachfully.

 

“You’re okay, I guess.”

 

“Okay? Is that why you-”

 

“She’s getting married!”

 

I quickly cut him off before he can remind me of my actions, flushing at the memory of how I had thrown myself at him.

 

“Really? To who?”

 

“Her childhood sweetheart. They grew up next to each other, but grew apart when she moved here. She’s moving back to marry him.”

 

“Good for her. Pass her my congratulations- even though I will call her myself.”

 

“Will do.”

 

“So who’s replacing her?”

 

“Replacing?”

 

“Of course. I was hoping that you would.”

 

He tosses me a wink, and I roll my eyes at his audaciousness. My body tingles pleasantly at the idea that he wants me to be a part of the Bachelor, even as my mind tells me that it means nothing.

 

“And who would film? Your mother?”

 

“I could call her in from India-”

 

“She moved to India?”

 

He smiles fondly, a childish glimmer in his eyes. I’m stunned to see this softer side of Arnav, a stark contrast to his normally arrogant persona.

 

“Yes. She and my dad found that they missed the desh too much. As soon as Di and Aman Bhai married, they decided to shift to our home in India.”

 

“Aman is…”

 

“My brother-in-law. Good lord, he and Di are insufferable. They’re the definition of a sickeningly sweet couple.”

 

I stifle a laugh at his disgusted expression, remembering when Payal and Akash were much the same way. Thankfully, marriage has made them less sappy and more practical- and Piya doesn’t leave much time for their constant cuddling.

 

“Don’t laugh. You would understand my pain if you were subjected to hours of sweetiepoo and honeykins and ‘meri jaan’.”

 

“Actually, I do understand. Payal and Akash were just like that, until Piya was born.”

 

“Unfortunately, a child has failed to dim the potent love between them. Anand is a joy though- no pun intended. Di is forever berating me for spoiling him. But Di and Aman Bhai are still as nauseating as ever- you would think someone spiked their drink with amortentia.”

 

“Wait- you’re a Harry Potter fan?”

 

“Always.”

 

I grin at him, and he smiles back. His eyes are softer, something I haven’t seen from him. The loud ring of the doorbell interrupts the moment, and after that, we devour the food, speaking in short bursts in between.

 

It’s comfortable between us, and conversation flows easily. I don’t feel like I have to fill every silence with words, and that’s something I’ve lacked desperately in other relationships.

 

I’m coming to realize that besides the fiery passion, Arnav ignites a warm feeling within me.

 

And I’m not sure how comfortable I am with that.

 

-***-

“You know, it’s been a good experience. I’ve loved getting to know Arnav, and even though I haven’t necessarily gotten along with everyone- I hope that I don’t leave too many hard feelings behind.”

 

I silently hand Puja a tissue as she sniffles loudly, honking her nose into the flimsy cloth. She’s reaching for another one within seconds, and I eventually just hand her the entire box. She gives me a watery smile, and I smile back, feeling tears prick at the back of my own eyes.

 

Regardless of all the arguments Rajjo has been involved in, her presence on the set will be deeply missed. I’m happy for her, of course, but she had a way of putting everyone in their place. Her sense of fairness has always been incredibly strong, and that’s something that will be lacking without her.

 

I reach over and give her a tight hug. I feel small beside her large frame, but she engulfs me in a tight squeeze, pulling out promise after promise to attend her wedding in a year.

 

“Alright, let’s shoot the next date- Arnav, Lavanya, get seated. You’re going to a Chinese restaurant.”

 

My gut clenches when I see Arnav smile brightly at Lavanya as they sit down on the couch, in a position that’s eerily similar to the one we’ve often found ourselves in over the last three weeks.

 

The last three weeks have been busy, with us resuming shooting after our week long break. Shooting has been considerably smoother, and as we bid goodbye to the girls, the tension has gone up steadily as the competition becomes more cutthroat.

 

Despite the competition, I’ve often found myself spending time with Arnav after shoots. We’ve gone out to dinner numerous times, under the excuse of “prepping” him for the next day.

 

But more often than not, it’s ended up with us sleeping together, or simply talking into the late hours of the night. It’s beginning to feel a lot like we’re dating.

 

Except that we haven’t discussed any of it.

 

Our teetering relationship makes me uneasy, but I’m more content than I’ve been in years. I don’t want to tip this precarious balance we’re hanging in, for fear that if I do… I won’t be able to go back.

 

The picture of a serious relationship with Arnav Singh Raizada, who I’d sworn to resist just a couple weeks ago, is becoming uncomfortably clear. The growing feelings I have for him are unsettling, but they’re becoming harder and harder to ignore.

 

I shake myself out of my thoughts, glancing at my phone to see if anyone has called me. I’ve sent my script to two directors, and I’m waiting on their call back. The second one is a longshot, but Arnav convinced me to send it to him.

 

If they don’t accept it- I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t want to admit that I’ve failed, that my parents were right when they said I should look to my other interests instead of film.

 

I have to succeed.

 

I stare at the phone, which is frustratingly blank, until I’m jolted out of my thoughts by NK’s next directions.

 

“Arnav, Lavanya- let’s shoot a kiss. You guys have such phenomenal chemistry, and I think that we could really exploit that.”

 

My stomach plummets at his words, and I stare at Arnav’s back. I can’t see his expression, but Lavanya’s smug smirk makes me want to throw something at the wall.

 

I’ve been conveniently ignoring the fact that Arnav is also dating an entire group of girls on the show, and that fact has come back to hit me square in the face.

 

I watch as Arnav nods, smiling at Lavanya. I mechanically hit the record button, unable to tear my eyes away as he leans in, placing a soft, gentle kiss on her lips. She grasps his hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

 

His hands slide up her waist, brushing up against the curve of her breast, and I can’t watch any longer. I push away from the chair, sprinting out of the room as the tears threaten to fall, even as NK calls my name.

 

I run out of the building to my car, sinking down into the leather seats. I feel nauseated, even though I know that this is partially my own fault.

 

But I can’t help but feel resentful at the fact that Arnav seemed perfectly willing to kiss her, even as he’s sleeping with me.

 

I find myself wondering again, forced to confront the question I’ve been avoiding for so long.

 

What does Arnav mean to me now?

 

-*Part Two*-

 

I walk back into the shoot, where Arnav and Lavanya are standing arm in arm. I give NK a watery smile, ignoring the questioning gaze of Arnav. I turn away from him, resentment bubbling up as I glimpse his hand on Lavanya’s waist.

 

I know I’m being ridiculous, but I can’t stop it. His casual acceptance of NK’s proposal has me seething in irritation, and I barely keep myself from shooting a burning glare at Lavanya.

 

“Khushi, can you meet me in my office?”

 

NK’s voice is cutting, and I wince when I hear the hint of disapproval in his voice. I follow him silently, anticipating his admonishment.

 

He closes the door, gesturing for me to sit down. I fiddle with my fingers, looking down and breathing heavily.

 

“You know what I’m going to say.”

 

“NK, I’m an adult-”

 

“I realize that. But I don’t think you’ve considered the consequences.”

 

“Please, did you consider the consequences with Nitin?”

 

“No. And I’m hoping you don’t make the same mistake.”

 

“NK, I don’t know what you’re assuming, but-”

 

“I’m assuming that you’re sleeping with Arnav.”

 

“Stellar observation, NK. Shall I give you an award now?”

 

He sighs deeply, looking at me seriously. I know he only means the best for me, especially since we’ve been close friends since our college days.

 

“Khushi, I made a mistake sleeping with Nitin when we were working together. It messed up our relationship, professionally and personally. Considering the fact that Arnav is your boss as well as the main lead in the Bachelor, I hope that you’ll think about it before you do anything further.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dad. Thanks for the unsolicited advice.”

 

NK rolls his eyes, and I stand up to leave.

 

“What happened with the scripts? Did you hear back?”

 

My hand tightens on the knob, and I shake my head in the negative.

 

“You know, Khushi, maybe it’s not such a bad idea to take up Uncle’s idea about-”

 

“No. You know how I feel about that. I want to succeed on my own, NK, and I don’t need any help.”

 

“In this industry, you need the connections, and as an outsider, it’s difficult to make it.”

 

“That’s a misconception. Plenty of people have made it without connections.”

 

“It doesn’t hurt to get a little help every once in a while, Khushi.”

 

I only grit my teeth and walk out, my hands clenching. I don’t need anyone’s help, and I don’t need anyone’s pity. I’m perfectly capable of succeeding on my own. I will away the memories of that conversation, the one that catalyzed this entire mess.

 

“Bitiya, did you hear back from the director?”

 

“He doesn’t want my script, Amma. He said it didn’t have maturity.”

 

I wipe the tears away harshly, peeling the potato with more force than necessary. I pointedly ignore my dad’s penetrating stare, not wanting to admit that he may have been right about my decision to go into cinematography and filming at NYU.

 

Maybe I should have gone to Harvard and taken the pre-medicine path instead.

 

“Khush, what if I… financed you?”

 

My hands still on the potato at my father’s words, his tentative offer increasing the thick tension in the room.

 

“Do you think I can’t make it on my own, Bauji?”

 

He sighs heavily, pulling his reading glasses off and setting them on the table next to the newspaper as I turn to face him, my hands crossed over my chest.

 

“No, Khush. I have full faith in you. I just think that you’re being stubborn, and that since you’ve chosen this more… difficult life, you should let me help.”

 

“After all that you’ve said to me, telling me I’d never be a success, why would I ever take help from you?”

 

“Khushi, I’m not trying to hurt you! I was- I’ll admit I overreacted when you made your decision, but I want you to succeed. I’m your father.”

 

“You certainly weren’t saying that when I made my decision to go to NYU. What was it, that “these arts majors never succeed”? Isn’t that what you said?”

 

“Khushi, I’m trying to make amends here. I want you to succeed. You need some help, and I’m willing to give it to you, I just- I made a mistake. I want you to be happy, beta.”

 

“That’s rich, Bauji.”

 

I finish peeling the potatoes quickly and storm out of the apartment, leaving to get some fresh air. Before I can leave, I hear my father’s voice behind me.

 

“Khushi, if you ever need it, just ask.”

 

I swallow tightly and slam the door shut as I rush out, fighting against my instincts to go running into my parents’ arms.

 

I sit in the front seat of my car, staring at my phone screen. It remains frustratingly blank, with only a picture of Payal and me staring back. I mindlessly swipe my fingers across the screen, playing 2048 blindly as I slip back into old memories.

 

Talent has to get you somewhere.

 

It has to.

 

The vibration and the loud, nasal tones of Munni Badnam Hui rings out in my silent car, and I jump. My finger hovers over the accept button, trembling slightly.

 

I hit the button and raise the phone to my ear.

 

“Khushi Kumari Gupta?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“We’re sorry to tell you that we can’t accept your script at the moment.”

 

My fingers tighten on the phone when I hear the familiar words of rejection yet again, telling me that they’re “not quite ready” to take on a “new writer”.

 

I press the end call button, the tears flowing unchecked down my cheeks.

 

I’ve got one more shot, one that seems further out of my reach than ever before. The man in question is a huge director, and I only sent it to him on Arnav’s insistence.

 

There’s almost no chance that he will accept my script, but I can’t lose hope. Not yet.

 

I slam my foot down on the accelerator, my hands turning the steering wheel unconsciously.

 

I need something to take my mind off of my misery, the feeling that I’ve failed yet again. I screech into a familiar parking spot, one I’ve taken numerous times over the last couple of weeks. I glance up the tall, posh apartment complex, staring up at the penthouse.

 

I need this right now, the intense, passionate sex that takes my mind off of everything.

 

I step into the elevator, pressing the button that will take me to his apartment.

 

-***-

 

He swings open the door, his brow furrowed with worry. In a repeat of three weeks ago, I throw myself into his arms again, kissing him with fervor.

 

Except this time, his hands rest gently on my waist, caressing it softly. He seems to sense that something is wrong, and slows the kiss down, cupping my face and pulling away.

 

“Khushi? Are those… tear tracks? Is this because of Lav-”

 

I cut him off with another kiss, my hands resting at the nape of his neck, playing with the tiny hairs there. He tugs me closer into him, pulling my hips into his own. We break away, and I struggle to control my breathing.

 

“What happened?”

 

I’m not in a mood to answer him, even as his questioning, worried eyes chip away at my determination to keep the tears at bay. I let the desire cloud my brain, making me dizzy with want.

 

“I need you.”

 

My voice is breathless, laden with the passion pulsing through me. He gives me a smoldering look before lifting me in one quick move. I gasp in surprise as he takes me into his bedroom, the lights of the city reflecting beautifully onto the large glass windows.

 

He places me gently onto the satiny bedsheets, his eyes glimmering with an unbridled passion that I’ve never seen before. He quickly removes his clothing, sliding a condom on before leaning over me, kissing me softly.

 

His hands bury into my hair, combing through the thick strands and splaying them out across the pillow as he deepens the kiss. I open my mouth willingly, allowing our tongues to tangle together as I sink further into the bed.

 

My lips feel swollen and heavy when he pulls away, pressing soft kisses up my jaw. He trails feather light touches down my throat until he reaches the first button of my shirt. Glancing up at me, he unbuttons it, kissing the newly revealed skin.

 

He continues all the way down, kissing every portion of new skin as he unbuttons my shirt and pushes it off of my shoulders. His eyes darken when he sees the dark, navy bra I’m wearing and he kisses the spot between my cleavage.

 

He unclasps the bra, letting it fall open and tossing it into a corner. His eyes rest on my breasts, almost reverent as he leans back, simply taking me in. I feel myself flush under his burning gaze, tracing every inch of me as if he’s seeing me for the first time.

 

His eyes shift downwards towards my stomach, and I feel a wave of self consciousness overwhelm me. There’s enough light in the room for him to fully see me, a contrast from the usual dimness.

 

He’s ripped my clothes off of me enough times, but this new tenderness evokes completely different emotions in me. The realization that I’m a far cry from the flat-stomached models he’s dated in the past hits me hard, and I slide my arms across my body to hinder his gaze.

 

I’m not what society would classify as fat, but I’m not nearly as toned as his previous girlfriends have surely been. It hasn’t bothered him before, but the insecurity presses forward regardless.

 

He doesn’t say anything, only reaches for my arms and pulls them away. Before I can suck in my stomach, he leans down and kisses it gently, before sucking gently on the side of my hip.

 

He unbuttons my jeans, slowly sliding them down my legs with my underwear. His fingers graze my skin, making me shiver and moan low in my throat. His breath is hot against the inside of my thighs, and I clutch the sheets in my fist when he places a wet, open mouthed kiss on the inside.

 

I fully expect him to tease me as usual, avoiding the throbbing nub where I need him the most. But instead, he takes it in his mouth immediately, suckling and flicking his tongue against the tip.

 

I cry out, my unrecognizable moans echoing in the nearly silent room. He holds me down lightly as he continues to swirl his tongue around me in a torturous circle. The sensations rapidly reach a peak, and I don’t restrain the sobs of pleasure that shake me as he sends me over the edge.

 

Before I have time to come down, he flips us around, putting me on top of him. This position is hardly new for us, but today, it seems… intimate. My breasts brush his chest as we kiss again, this time in a passionate, demanding embrace.

 

I sink down onto him, taking him fully into me. His hands slide up my thighs, resting on my waist as we find a slow rhythm. The long, deep thrusts are completely different from our usual fast, hard sex, and it makes me feel pleasantly warm inside.

 

Our hips rock together, slapping against each other as our desperation to reach that peak reaches a high. My hair surrounds us, sticking to his skin as it becomes covered in a sheen of sweat.

 

He takes my breast in his mouth and suckles hard, and I dig my nails into his skin, the crescent shaped markings deep in his shoulders. The soft creaking of the bed and our moans of pleasure are the only thing breaking the silence, the fading light of the sun dimming the room.

 

I climax hard, clenching around him with a keening, loud cry as the sensations spiral around me. He presses forward, guiding me as he rapidly reaches his own peak, coming with a husky groan.

 

We slump against each other on the bed, his body cocooning me as I curl up into him. The warmth of his naked body lulls me into a deep sleep, and I throw my legs over him just as the sun sets.

 

-***-

 

I open my eyes slowly the next morning, the rays of the morning sun hitting me hard in the face. The distinct scent of dosa and filter coffee wafts into the room, and I inhale deeply, savoring the scent.

 

I lift myself out of the bed, and my body aches with the strain of last night. I look down, realizing that I’m completely naked, my clothes strewn about in the room. I reach for his shirt, looking around for my bra as I button it up.

 

It hangs past my thighs, covering me up sufficiently. I blush profusely, realizing that he’s seen me in much less anyway.

 

I can vaguely hear the sounds of low voices, and I brush it off as my drowsiness. I rub at my eyes, wincing as I pad quietly out of the room into the hallway.

 

“Arnav, where did you throw my bra last night? I can’t seem to…”

 

I trail off, absolutely horrified when I encounter not one, but three pairs of caramel eyes focused on me, along with a darker brown filled with amusement. My entire body flushes when I realize that Arnav and I are no longer… alone in the house, and I find myself facing his sister, brother-in-law, and nephew.

 

I flash my eyes up to Arnav, completely mortified at my current situation. But his face is impassive, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

 

“Score, Mama!”

 

Anand’s higher voice pipes up, and he grins mischieviously as he lifts his hand to give Arnav a high five. Arnav turns a darker red, tentatively lifting an embarrassed hand to meet the smaller one.

 

“Arnav, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

 

Anjali’s smug voice floats out, and I’m struck by the resemblance between the siblings. She has the same, self satisfied grin as Arnav, and she smiles reassuringly at me. Behind her, her husband stands, clearly amused by the awkwardness in the room.

 

“Er, yeah. Khushi, this is my Di.”

 

I reach out my hand to shake hers, giving Anand a quick high five as I avoid Aman’s gaze.

 

“Di, this is Khushi. My… friend.”

 

-***-

Note: And that’s where I’ll leave you for now! *ducks chappals* All I will say is- don’t judge Arnav yet. He will voice his thoughts soon. Virtual cookies for anyone who can guess the reasoning behind my teaser! I’ll see you guys in two weeks.

As always, please follow @ipkchotidesi for update links, or follow this blog. 

Love,

Choti

Chapter Six (mature)

Note: Surprise! Warning, this is mature. Really mature. So please skip down to the first -***- if you’re uncomfortable. Otherwise… Read on!

-***-

He’s waiting for my answer, and I can feel his uncertainty. I’m grateful that he took the time to ask me whether this is okay with me, which is something I never would have expected someone like him to do.

 

I lean in, my lips hovering over his as I answer.

 

“Fuck me, Arnav.”

 

He groans, immediately taking my lips in a drugging, deep kiss as he sets me down gently, holding me up against the door as my knees threaten to give out.

 

My own confidence surprises me, but I completely give in to my desire, forcibly pushing logic out of my brain. I won’t back out of this, not now. I’m desperate to get rid of this tension between us, and I’m a slave to my own passion.

 

His kisses grow demanding, pulling my lips between his and sucking lightly. The heat of his body is searing through the thin v-neck I’m wearing, and my head spins with the sheer intensity of the passion between us.

 

His hands slide up my waist, pushing my shirt up and splaying out against the skin of my stomach. His thumbs brush the underside of my breasts, sliding underneath the cotton of my bra.

 

He moans, low and throaty at the feel of my breasts in his hands, rolling the tips between his fingers. I arch into his touch, my hips bucking against him. The grinding of my hips against his arousal makes him growl, and his hands slip to my lower back, tugging me sharply into him.

 

He nips at the skin on my neck, suckling it and swirling his tongue in a hot, wet pattern. My v-neck slides down, and he takes advantage, sinking his teeth into the soft skin of my cleavage. His fingers soothe the bites he places on the curve of my breast, and it’s unprecedented tenderness between the heady desperation of the moment.

 

I slide my hands down to the waist of his jeans, fumbling with the belt. I stroke him through the fabric, and he braces himself against the door, his palms placed flat on either side of my head.

 

I look up to see him staring at me with hooded, half lidded eyes, his face strained with the effort of keeping himself contained. I stroke him again, letting my fingers linger over him. He groans, a husky, guttural sound that makes the throbbing ache almost painfully intense.

 

“Khushi, if you keep doing that, I-”

 

He trails off when I tug down his zipper, the thin fabric of his boxers allowing my fingers to cup him more fully. His eyes close, and I feel his hands fist by my face as he grits his teeth.

 

He pries my fingers off of him as I begin to stroke more quickly, panting heavily. His eyes are dark with desire, and his hands shove my skirt roughly up my legs, caressing my legs with impatience.

 

His hands skim over the dampness of my sensible, cotton panties, and I can’t help but wish I had worn something sexier. He doesn’t seem to care though, and his hand presses more intensely against me, and I gasp when the heel of his hand grinds against the pulsing nub.

 

His eyes are focused on my face when he slides a finger into me, watching as my mouth falls open. I don’t even recognize the moans that spill from my lips as he dips inside of me again and again, making me writhe against the door. The hard grain of the wood rubs against my back as my shirt rides up, and I thrust my hips forward against his hand.

 

He brings me just to the edge, and I throw my head back as I brace myself against him. Just as I get close, he pulls himself out, and I whimper in despair. I wiggle my hips against his still hand, and he leans forward to take my lips in a passionate kiss, before pulling back.

 

His hands reach into his pockets, fumbling with his wallet as he pulls out a condom. He rips the packet open harshly in frustration, tugging the condom on with practiced ease. He pulls my legs around his waist, cupping my ass as he supports me against the door.

 

He pushes my ruined cotton panties aside, pressing the tip of himself inside of me. He suddenly freezes, his hands tightening on me. I’m confused by the sudden hesitation, and I turn a questioning gaze up to him.

 

“Khushi, is this your first…?”

 

The worry and tenderness in his eyes shocks me, and for a moment, I’m left speechless. I can see in his eyes that he’ll stop right now if I want him to, regardless of how turned on he is. He’s clearly struggling with the fact that my first could be in a closet, a desperate encounter that’s not the least bit filled with the tenderness it should have.

 

I smile at him reassuringly, lacing my hands behind his head to pull him into a soft kiss. I can’t express my gratitude in words, so I try to put every bit of it into the kiss. I pull back, reaching my hand down to take him into me.

 

“This isn’t my first, Arnav.”

 

His face relaxes, and he kisses me hard as he thrusts deeply into me. My cry of pleasure is swallowed by his kiss, and we pull back from the kiss, breathing heavily. I relish the feel of his hardness inside of me, the friction relieving the pulsing tension just a little bit.

 

He pulls out again, slamming into me with unexpected force. I clutch his shoulders as he repeats the motion, increasing pace and guiding my hips with his hands. My hips meet his every stroke, lifting off against the door.

 

I press kisses to the side of his neck, taking his earlobe into my mouth and sucking deeply. He swears thickly when my teeth graze the skin, resting his forehead against mine when I lean back.

 

The sensations begin to reach a head when his hand brushes against our point of connection, taking the aching peak between his fingers and stroking it sensually.

 

His light, teasing touch is too much for my overwhelmed body to take, and I bury my face into his shoulder as I come with a sob, the shudders shaking my body. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut as he pulses inside of me, sliding his hands up to the skin of my waist and digging his fingers in.

 

He sets me down on the floor, unwrapping my legs from his waist. I’m still trembling, and I’m gasping for breath. I can hear him struggle to steady his own breathing as he leans against the door, swallowing tightly.

 

“That was-”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Our eyes meet, and I’m forced to look away. The emotions swirling in both of our eyes is too much for me to handle at the moment.

 

I’m uncomfortably aware of my racing heartbeat, the blood pounding loudly in my ears. I had given in to the desire hoping that this would put an end to this, but I find myself longing for more. My traitorous body craves for his touch once more, for him to pull me into his arms and stroke me until I’m begging for him to take me again.

 

He’s facing away from me, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. When he turns back, a wall has fallen on his eyes, and his expression is unreadable.

 

I’m about to open my mouth when a sharp knock interrupts the moment. I hastily adjust my clothes, wincing when I realize that my lips are swollen, the dull ache of his marks reminding me of their presence.

 

“Arnav? Khushi? Are you guys in there?”

 

I glance at Arnav, but his eyes are still inscrutable. I swallow, my throat tight as I croak out a response.

 

The click of the keys unlocks the door, and the harsh light of the hallway makes me squint.

 

Arnav walks out silently ahead of me, his body taut with tension. NK looks after him curiously, before turning his gaze to me.

 

His eyes run quickly over my figure, pausing at the obvious beginning of a bruise on my neck. He opens his mouth to say something, before closing it, apparently thinking the better of it.

 

He walks away, leaving me alone in the middle of a drafty hallway.

 

I can’t help but wonder if I’ve made my biggest mistake yet.

-***-

 

I groan when I open my eyes, blearily looking up to see the blurry face of Payal. My entire body aches pleasantly, and I feel more satisfied than I have in a long time.

 

“You have a hickey on your neck. Spill. Now.”

 

“Why are you invading my house, Patel?”

 

“Because Akash has taken Piya out for a Daddy-Daughter date, and I could seriously use a day out. And by the looks of it, it’s perfectly timed too.”

 

She ignores my protests as she pushes me to the bathroom, handing me my concealer with a wink. I roll my eyes, quickly swiping a bit of kajal along my eyes and some concealer on the now dark bruise.

 

My hands still as I’m rubbing the concealer in, and the memories of earlier this morning are still vivid in my brain.

 

I can’t shake the feeling of his deep kisses, the skillful fingers that had me writhing underneath him in mere minutes. His aloof response after is jarring, and I stifle a groan as my headache returns full force.

 

“Khushi! Get out of the bathroom! Piya and Akash are only gone for a couple of hours, and I want to make the most of it!”

 

I amble out, and she drags me to the car. We pull up to our favorite coffee shop, and for good measure, I add an extra pump of chocolate syrup to my drink.

 

Payal cuts right to the chase when we sit down, eagerly pressing me for details.

 

“So spill. Who is this?”

 

My uncomfortable expression is enough to reveal the man, and she squeals like a teenage girl, clapping her hands.

 

“No way! You fucked Raizada? Was he as good as he claimed?”

 

I roll my eyes at her enthusiasm, and she giggles, my silence an admittance of the truth.

 

Sex with Arnav was the best sex I’ve ever had, and I can’t deny that fact. The memory of my peak brings the ache back between my legs, and I squeeze them together in an effort to tame the raging desire I feel without him even there.

 

“Are you two a thing then?”

 

“A thing? How old are you, thirteen?”

 

She raises an eyebrow at my avoidance, and I play with my cup of coffee, taking a long sip.

 

“I don’t know, Payal. It just sort of… Happened. I was tired of resisting him, and I thought it would make it go away.”

 

“But you want him more than ever, don’t you?”

 

I stare at my cup pointedly, examining it for nonexistent cracks. I’m unwilling to admit this out loud, but she seems to understand the unsaid words.

 

“Khushi, listen. It’s not bad to want someone. You’re 28, and you haven’t had a relationship since-”

 

“I know when my last relationship was, Payal. No need to remind me.”

 

My steely tone fails to deter her, and she presses on with the advice I don’t want to hear.

 

“You need this. You’ve got to let go yourself every once in a while, Khushi. God, when’s the last time you went out?”

 

“I’m happy, okay? I need to establish myself. I don’t have time to while away.”

 

“Khush, you’ve got to give yourself a break. You feel guilty, don’t you?”

 

“Don’t tell me what I feel, Payal! I know how I’m feeling, and I don’t need you to tell me. Stop trying to analyze me. I know you’re a psychologist and all, but I am not your patient.”

 

“When are you going to let yourself be happy?”

 

“Forgive me for not being little miss optimistic. I don’t have a chubby baby, I don’t have a husband. I’m 28, broke, and filming trashy TV. On top of that, the guy I have the best sex of my life with barely acknowledges me afterwards! I was supposed to be the successful one! So I’m sorry, but I think I’m entitled to be cynical.”

 

She regards me with knowing eyes, and I fidget in my seat. I hate her expression, and I don’t like the way she seems to be looking through me. She finally sighs defeatedly, and smiles brightly.

 

I exhale in relief as she chatters off on a tangent, relishing the chance to take my mind off of everything that’s happened.

 

I’ll deal with it later.

-***-

 

“Khushi? May I come in?”

 

I look up from my laptop to see Rajjo standing at the door, twisting her hands. The nervousness she’s displaying is something I’ve never seen from her, only having seen the confident, brash side.

 

I nod, and she steps in. NK is out for the weekend, and I’m sitting at work, making edits to the messy scenes. The show often goes so far off script that I often spent hours deliberating over which fights need to be included.

 

I look up at Rajjo expectantly, and she looks like she’s struggling to find words. She finally opens her mouth, sighing with determination before speaking.

 

“I’d like to quit.”

 

I have to restrain my mouth from falling open in shock. Of all of the things, this is the least expected.

 

“May I ask why?”

 

A soft, shy blush fills her cheeks, and I’m struck by how someone so brash can have a side to them that’s so delicate.

 

“I’m getting married. It’s from the boy I grew up with, and…”

 

She trails off, fiddling with her fingers bashfully. I can’t restrain the smile that takes over my face, and her stiff stance relaxes immediately.

 

“That’s great, Rajjo- congratulations! When is the wedding?”

 

“In a year or so. We decided we would like to spend some time as an engaged couple before we actually get married.”

 

“I’m very happy for you. Although, I hope you know that we’ll have to come up with something less sensible to explain your leaving.”

 

I smile wryly, and she smiles back at me, clearly much more relaxed than when she walked in. Despite her domineering, muscular frame, love seems to have softened her harshness, and I find that the changes suit her.

 

I hand her the forms to fill out for her resignation from the show. Her words  stick with me long after she leaves, and I find myself thinking about my relationship with Arnav.

 

Arnav and I haven’t spoken since our encounter three days ago, largely because of the break we’ve taken from shooting. Despite this, the discomforting need for him has not gone away.

 

If anything, it’s even stronger.

 

I had thought that sex with Arnav would make me forget everything, and that my moment of careless passion would fix the emotions that threaten to overturn the careful balance I’ve set.

 

But I was wrong.

 

I recall Payal telling me that I need to let go, and allow myself to be happy. The sight of Rajjo’s joy at her new engagement makes me crave something similar, and I’m shocked by my sudden need for something I can’t quite place my finger on.

 

The memory of the overpowering chemistry between Arnav and me makes my fists clench. I swallow thickly, closing my eyes as I struggle to decide on how to mitigate the consequences of my actions.

 

I stride purposefully out of the office before I can go back on my decision, moving almost mechanically. I don’t realize what I’m doing until I’ve lifted my fist to his door, rapping sharply.

 

I realize I have no idea what I plan to say, and the overwhelming desire to run away courses through my veins, but the door swings open before I can flee.

 

At that moment, I’m left speechless.

 

He’s standing in front of me, clad in only a fluffy white towel that soaks up the water dripping down his body.

 

Damn him.

-***-

Note: I updated today because I’m leaving for another four day trip, and won’t have access to my computer. Looking ahead, I will be overseas between July 4-14, without a laptop. I don’t know if I’ll be able to update, and I would like to hit a particular point in the story before I leave.

As always, please follow @ipkchotidesi for update links, or follow this blog. I’m posting both here and on IF, and commenting on either is welcome. Happy reading!

Love always,

Choti

 

Chapter Five

I pull myself up from against the brick wall, harshly wiping away the tears running down my cheeks.

 

I won’t let him win, not this time. The festering attraction had to be ended, and now that I had given into it for a careless second, it would fade away.

 

I close my eyes, trying to steady myself as I start to walk. My mind flashes back to that kiss, and I can’t stop the shudder that courses through me at the thought.

 

I can still feel the imprints of his hands on my skin, and the memory of the warmth of his caresses makes me tremble. My breasts feel taut to the cool air, straining for his touch and the brush of his tongue. My dress feels skimpy as the air rushes over me, sending goosebumps crawling up my skin, making me shiver.

 

My body longs for his touch, for the release and satisfaction that could have come out of tonight. The lingering, gentle circles his fingers drew on my naked thighs makes the heat pool between my legs, and I struggle to maintain control of this desperate desire.

 

I can’t deny that I want him.

 

The physical need to be with him, to let him have his way with me is overpowering. I find myself wondering what could have happened tonight if he hadn’t said my name and brought me out of my reverie.

 

Would I have woken up tomorrow in his bed, alone? Would I have become another notch on his bedpost?

 

I can hear him laughing about how easy I was to get into bed, and my stomach clenches uncomfortably.

 

I won’t let him win. I can’t.

 

-***-

 

“Chashmish!”

 

I hear his voice call out for me as I’m about to push open the door, and glance over my shoulder to see him jogging towards me. I know I should hold it open for him, but I can’t risk talking to him and falling into that vortex again.

 

I spin quickly and walk away, letting the door slam in his face as he curses in frustration behind me. I rush to my dressing room, knowing he won’t follow me there.

 

I’m about to pull out my tripod when the door creaks, and I instantly feel his gaze on my back. His eyes drop down, and I can’t stop the heat coursing through me at his appreciative stare. I force myself to keep my back to him, even as I hear him approaching me.

 

He places his hand on my waist, and I flinch at the burning touch. I skirt around him, grabbing my tripod hastily as I try to flee the room.

 

But he’s too quick for me, and I feel his fingers close around my wrist just as I’m about to escape.

 

“Khushi, what are you-“

 

“Khushi! Shoot in five! Get out here!”

 

NK’s call is a godsend, and I wrench my hand out of his grasp and sprint out of the room. I can hear him swear behind me, and I can almost picture him running his hands through his hair, his brows furrowed in anger.

 

-***-

 

I struggle to focus the camera, my hands slipping on the lens every time I think I’ve focused. Arnav’s eyes have been on me this entire time, and I feel as if he can see right through me.

 

“Khushi, are you ready?”

 

“No, NK, just stop asking! I’ll be ready in five, okay?”

 

I know everyone is watching me, and I can hear the sarcastic snorts of the girls on the show. They’re all sitting around a table, ready for their group date.

 

I finally manage to focus, and NK gives the cues for the cameras to roll. I see the girls all fawn over Arnav immediately, each one trying to get close to him.

 

“Today, Arnav will give a rose to the girl-or guy” Shyam winks at Arnav, who fights a gag, “- who most impresses him during this group date. Whoever gets a rose will be exempt from elimination. Good luck ladies!”

 

He blows a kiss Arnav’s way before he leaves, flipping his shaggy hair over his shoulder.

 

“We’re eating at one of my favorite Italian restaurants. Italy has such a romantic culture, so I thought this would be the perfect place to bring you all.”

 

He smiles, and I have to force myself not to swoon along with all the other girls.

 

In his pristine white button down, dark jeans, and a nicely ironed blazer, Arnav drips with seductive charm. He’s wearing his glasses today, and the square rims make him look knowledgeable, while the smirk playing on his lips reveal his mischievous side.

 

The women are all dressed to perfection, with even Puja coming out in a beautifully tied saffron sari. Her pallu is finally off her head, and her dark, shiny hair is pulled into a perfect french braid. The lining of kohl only accentuates her almond shaped eyes, and she stands out with her traditional look.

 

But the woman who steals the show is easily Lavanya, who’s wearing a red, lacy dress that hugs her curves. Her long legs seem endless, and her feet are encased in matching red stilettos that make her hips sway as she walks in. Her hair falls in stylishly cut layers around her face, and her smoky eyeliner makes her look even sexier.

 

I can’t help but notice that she and Arnav look stunning together as a couple. Her darker tones match up well with him, and she seems to fit perfectly in the curve of his arm as he guides her forward. His eyes didn’t miss her her, and I see him look at her with clear appreciation as he lingers just a little too long.

 

She sits down right next to him, flirting and giggling with marked ease. Arnav doesn’t hesitate to flirt back, complimenting her on her beauty and allowing her hand to rest on top of his at the table.

 

“Cut!”

 

I hit the stop button, unsure as to why we’ve paused. This is the best filming has gone in days, without any arguments or misspoken lines.

 

“Arnav, why don’t you feed Lavanya some of your spaghetti? That will add to the already sizzling chemistry between you two.”

 

I freeze, my heart clenching painfully as the green eyed monster bubbles up in my stomach. I avoid Arnav’s questioning gaze, knowing that my eyes will reflect the piercing envy I feel right now.

 

His eyes remain on me when he answers, and I blink rapidly to keep the sudden tears from falling.

 

“Sure, NK. Who would turn down the opportunity to feed a beautiful girl?”

 

My eyes fly to his, and I immediately look away when our eyes meet. NK gives the signal to start rolling, and I take a deep breath before I hit the button.

 

I bite down on my lip hard, drawing blood as I watch Arnav lift the fork to her mouth, his hand resting lightly on her chin. He pulls the fork out slowly, her lips sucking every last bit of the tomato sauce off. His thumb brushes the edge of her lip, wiping off the last bit of tomato sauce.

 

I feel his thumb brushing the cheese off of my mouth yesterday, the feeling still imprinted on my lips. I close my eyes, savoring the memory and trying to keep myself from wanting to be in her position.

 

He looks up from her lips, and doesn’t look at her. Instead, I open my eyes to find his gaze focused on me, an inscrutable expression in his eyes.

 

“Arnavji?”

 

Puja’s timid voice comes from across the table, interrupting the tense atmosphere. I see Lavanya’s eyes narrow in distaste as she turns up her nose, and I know Rajjo has noticed as well with the way her hands fist protectively.

 

Puja has become the darling of the show, the innocent girl who everyone wants to protect. The girls have almost formed a protective barrier around her since Lavanya, Sheetal and Jiji made fun of her traditional ways, and the group is now split in two between those who support Puja, and those who make fun of her.

 

“May I… have the chili flakes? This is kind of bland.”

 

“Oh my god, did you like, not hear what Arnav said? He said this is like, his favorite food. And you’re like, ruining it with your taste. Ugh.”

 

“Please Jiji, you can’t tell me that you actually like this fettucine alfredo nonsense. Give me a nice, spicy tandoori chicken.”

 

Rajjo’s eyes are menacing, and I wince when I realize that I’m going to be filming yet another argument between catty women.

 

“Um, yeah, I like, actually like this stuff okay? You Indian girls have like, no taste.”

 

“You Indian girls? What’s your name, Jeena?”

 

“Jiji. My name is Jiji! Ugh, why don’t you like, understand anything! Do I have to like, talk super slowly or something?”

 

Rajjo lifts the table and everything goes sliding to the ground. The plates clatter to the ground, shattering and spilling tomato sauce and alfredo everywhere, turning the dark red into a light pink.

 

“CUT! Khushi, call the janitors please. Everyone else, lunch break.”

 

Shyam stands in a corner, examining his nails as we file out silently, Rajjo fuming behind me as Jiji wipes frantically at her skirt, now splattered with sauce.

 

“Well, that went well.”

 

NK tosses Shyam a death glare, and I rub at my head again.

 

I really need some Advil.

 

-***-

 

I groan in frustration when the tripod sticks out of my bag again, the zip refusing to shut. I fight the urge to toss the tripod against the wall, and shove it in with a little extra force than necessary.

 

I stalk out of the room, looking forward to sinking into my lumpy couch and eating something that hopefully doesn’t have green fuzz on it.

 

I stifle a scream when long fingers close around my wrist, whipping me into a small, dark room. I hear a click as the door locks, and the hand presses down on my mouth, and I find myself trapped against the door. A large stick falls down on top of my head, clunking as it falls to the ground.

 

I push the body off of me furiously, shoving my attacker into cleaning supplies. We’re locked in a closet, and there’s not enough space for me to move significantly away from him.

 

“What the fuck, Arnav?! What is your damn problem?!”

 

“My problem? What’s your problem, Khushi? What the hell were you doing?”

 

“What do you mean, what was I doing? I was doing my job.”

 

“Really? Because it certainly seemed like you were avoiding me.”

 

“Please, don’t flatter yourself.”

 

“Then why did you sprint out of the room as soon as you possibly could when I tried to talk to you this morning? And why did you slam the door on my face?”

 

“NK called me, I need to be on time for shooting. You were walking too slowly. Now will you let me go?”

 

“No can do, we’re stuck in here until someone hears us.”

 

“What?! You don’t have a key?”

 

“Nope. I needed to talk to you, and I needed to talk to you without any interruptions.”

 

“So your solution was to lock us in a supply closet without a key?”

 

“It worked, didn’t it?”

 

I fall silent, crossing my arms across my chest and glaring angrily at who I hope is Arnav. He sighs, understanding that I’m not in the mood for his antics.

 

“Why are you avoiding me, Khushi?”

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“I thought we were… friends?”

 

“You have plenty of other friends. Lavanya seems perfectly thrilled to be your friend.”

 

“Are you jealous?”

 

“Why would I be jealous?”

 

“Because I kissed you and then fed her?”

 

“What are you trying to say, Arnav?”

 

“I’m trying to say that you have feelings for me.”

 

 

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing pulse. He’s too close to the truth for my comfort, and I can’t let myself give in. Not now.

 

“That’s a pretty weighted accusation.”

 

“Accusation? I think it’s the truth.”

 

“You’re pretty confident in yourself.”

 

“Khushi, why are you denying this?”

 

“Why are you so insistent about this? Just let it go!”

 

“I don’t want to let it go.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because you’ve been driving me insane, and I can’t get the damned taste of coconut off my lips!”

 

“Is that the only reason?”

 

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

 

“I’m sure Lavanya would be more than willing to wear coconut chapstick for you. Just say the word. Why does it matter that it’s me?”

 

I feel him stiffen, and hear him stand up, and I can sense his purposeful stance. My nerves stand on edge, unsure of his intentions.

 

“Arnav, what-“

 

My words are lost when he slams me up against the door, pressing his lips to mine in a deep, rough kiss. His lower body grinds into mine, and he takes advantage of my gasp by thrusting his tongue into my mouth, nipping at my lips.

 

He lifts my legs around his waist, and pulls back for a split second to look into my eyes. I’m paralyzed by the pure desire I see there for me, and for a minute, my brain goes blank.

 

“Khushi, if we don’t stop here, I won’t be able to stop.”

 

There’s a question at the end of his statement, and I can see the hesitancy in his eyes.

 

I close my eyes, and make my decision.

-***-

Note: And that’s a wrap for now! I hope you liked it. The next update will be sometime next week, since I’m still on the road. Teaser will hopefully be up this weekend. An extra note: please follow @ipkchotidesi for future update links. I am also starting to post the story on IF as well, if you prefer to comment there. Here’s the link, in case anyone needs it.

Love always,

Choti

Teaser: Chapter Five

There is a teaser section at the top of the page, and I’ve just posted the teaser for the impending chapter.

Here’s a link, if anyone is having issues.

Enjoy! Chapter should be up by Wednesday, US Time- travel schedule permitting.

Interlude: Arnav

When her lips press against mine, I can’t control myself any longer. I pull her until she’s straddling me, her bare legs wrapped around my waist as her dress rides up.

 

I’m given unprecedented access to her warm, naked thighs, burning me through my shirt, the thin button down doing nothing to keep me from feeling the heat of her skin.

 

But that’s not where I want my hands- at least not yet.

 

I reach for the damned clip that holds her hair in that tight bun and give it one sharp tug, sending a cascade of hair tumbling around my fingers.

 

She pulls back for a moment to stare into my eyes, and I know she can see the blatant desire swirling in them. My eyes flick down to those tempting lips, parted and swollen with my ministrations.

 

I look up at her once, and then I take her in a hard, passionate kiss that pushes her against the pillows of my couch. She nips at my lips with her teeth, her hands cupping my cheeks as she pulls me closer.

 

Her legs shift involuntarily, and I groan at the sensation of being cradled between her thighs. I can see the barest hint of lace peeking out from underneath her dress, and I take her breast in my mouth. She writhes underneath me, gasping as her head falls against the pillow in pleasure. I feel the tips harden against my lips, straining against the material of her dress.

 

My hands slide up her thighs, and I reach for the hem, trailing my fingers up the soft skin. She moans, a low, guttural sound that ignites the frenzied desire in me, and I can’t stop myself from taking her lips in my own once more.

 

“Khushi…”

 

I involuntarily murmur her name against her lips, and I feel her stiffen instantly. I’ve reminded her that it’s me she’s with, and her panicked eyes snap to mine.

 

Before I can do anything, she’s ripped herself from my grasp, pulling herself up as she frantically searches for the lost clip. She swears when she can’t find it, and pulls her hair into that cursed tight bun as she slips on her shoes, stumbling out of my door.

 

I sink down into the sofa, cupping my head in my hands as I call out her name feebly again, not truly wanting her to come back. Not yet.

 

My body craves for release, to have her within me and cradled in my arms. I know that no matter what I do, I won’t get satisfaction.

 

Not without her, not tonight.

 

This piercing desire that has a grip on me like Peter’s silver hand is unnerving, and I’m not used to this pounding need to have someone. I haven’t ever wanted anything this badly in my life, and ironically, it happens to be the one girl I turned away.

 

As a teenage boy, I had found it amusing to tease her and watch her fiddle with the ends of her braid, nervously pushing the glasses up her nose as she turned a bright red. I had shamelessly used her crush on me against her, making it a point to dash her hopes every day, simply to gain the satisfaction of having someone under my control.

 

But life has a way of coming back to bite you, and it certainly has for me.

 

This overpowering desire for her, the physical need to have her, is something I could not have anticipated when I had read her name under NK’s upon AR Corporation’s acquisition of Triangle Plus.

 

Admittedly, I had promised NK I would step in for the Bachelor partially because of my insatiable curiosity to find out why the most talented girl of my grade was filming a trashy TV show on a struggling channel.

 

I had expected her to be the same Khushi I knew in high school, the one with a slicked plait, thick glasses, and rainbow braces with an armful of textbooks.

 

Instead, I was confronted with a grown woman with curves that were clearly visible underneath her baggy sweatshirts.

 

I had watched, mesmerized, when she had let her silky hair loose for a minute, before redoing the bun, and my fingers had itched to pull the hair loose and run through it, over and over again.

 

Her eyes glinted with curiosity behind glasses that now seemed to suit her face, giving her a mature, knowledgeable look instead of the nerdy, know-it-all expression she constantly seemed to wear in high school.

 

But at the sight of me, her hazel eyes had darkened with distinct dislike, and I found myself instead wondering what they would look like if they were clouded in desire instead.

 

I knew she wasn’t fond of me, given the fact that I had shamelessly used my knowledge of her crush against her in high school.

 

But that didn’t stop me from trying to gain her favor again.

 

I had expected it to be simple. Flashing an easy smile and pouring on the charm was generally enough to have a woman swooning at my feet, but Khushi had met me with even more disdain.

 

Along with that disdain, I had seen another emotion swirling in her eyes. I hadn’t missed the desire swirling in her eyes when I had walked in to hand her the pills, sweeping over my bare chest. It had taken all of my frayed control to not pull my shirt off of her right there, and her smooth legs peeking out from underneath had taunted me relentlessly.

 

I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see that desire again when I had come upon her in the dressing room, calmly putting away her tripod. The way she had turned up her nose at my predicament earlier had me looking for revenge, and flustering her was a chance I simply couldn’t miss.

 

I had pinned her against the wall, only intending to get close enough to bring the appealing blush to her face. But seeing her eyes flutter close and her pouted, pink lips part, had broken the last bits of my control, and I had leaned in, completely mesmerized

 

I couldn’t hold back the almost paralyzing desire for her, and I had brushed my lips against hers in an attempt to alleviate the pressure of the want coursing through my veins.

 

Despite NK’s untimely interruption, I had thought that the taste of her would make the longing go away.

 

I had been wrong.

 

The next couple of days had been hell, with the barest taste of her lips lingering on my own. I could still taste the hint of coconut from her Chapstick, and it had been driving me insane.

 

So when Arushi had quit, I had appointed Khushi in her position. She had helped matters by offering me a business dinner.

 

I had planned to kiss her that night, knowing that I would finally be able to rid myself of the piercing need for her.

 

It was a wonderful, perfectly respectable plan.

 

Until I had come upon her arguing with her parents, and I had heard every single word.

 

I had felt for her, having been the target of the harsh accusations of failure myself a few years back. When Dad handed over the reins of AR to me, people had expected the company to continue its rise to success.

 

But I hadn’t been able to handle the responsibilities at the time, being all of 23. I lacked experience, and I had made some bad choices for our company. The naysayers never failed to show up, and I was deemed the biggest failure of the year.

 

I hated my father at the time for watching me silently as I stumbled over and over again, with the laughs and jeers of the critics in my ears.

 

But it had made me stronger, and as my father had predicted, I learned to pull myself up. AR had become one of the biggest companies of our time, and was now even more successful than when my father had been its head.

 

The quiet pride in his eyes was worth every taunt, every bit of agony that I had been put through.

 

I had hated him at the time, but I came to realize that he didn’t mean the worst for me. He wanted me to learn on my own, without a parent to constantly coddle me.

 

And it had worked.

 

I could relate to Khushi when she walked out of her parents apartment, tears filling her hazel eyes. I could hear her mother’s pained cries, and her father’s harsh words.

 

But I couldn’t bring myself to hate her father, not when I knew how much he loved his daughter.

 

I distinctly remembered the pride when she won yet another award for her writing, or when she won the science spelling bee. I remember the simmering anger when people surreptitiously put her down when she chose to go into film.

 

I saw my own father in him, and behind the cutting words, I could hear the pain of seeing his own daughter suffer.

 

Khushi, the ace student of our high school with endless awards in math and science, had shocked everyone with her decision to go to New York University for their prestigious film program.

 

She had always been a phenomenal writer, and she was often the one behind the camera for any video the school needed.

 

But her talent in math and science combined with her heritage had assured the entire community that she would do as every, other Indian child would do- become a doctor.

 

She had shocked all of us, but what shocked me more was that she hadn’t found success yet.

 

I had been surprised upon realizing that she wasn’t on the red carpet, accepting her fifth Oscar. It was a place I knew she deserved, having seen the potential in high school.

 

But the film industry is brutal, and it’s no surprise that she’s struggling. She’s not the only talented one out there, and in order for her to succeed, she needs what the others have: connections.

 

Which is why I did something that I would have never expected myself to do.

 

As she napped, I picked up the phone and dialed a number, speaking quietly with the person on the other side. I knew she had an independent streak, so I warned him not to say anything to the woman in question.

I had placed the phone down mechanically, still grappling with the fact that I had done something I never would have done if it hadn’t been her.

 

Had I done the wrong thing?

 

My eyes had fallen on her sleeping figure, light snores escaping from her lips as she sprawled out over the couch, clutching the blanket tightly to her chest. The tips of her toes peeked out, and I could see a stray piece of hair fluttering lightly as her breath came out in soft gushes.

 

The sight of her had reaffirmed my choice, and I had brushed it off as making up for all that I had put her through in high school.

 

Everyone needs a little help sometimes, and she was no exception.

 

And I owed her one for being an idiot teenage boy, didn’t I?

 

I had decided to go through with my plan, ignoring the unease settling in my stomach telling me that I was wrong. I would kiss her, and the teasing taste I had gotten earlier would be satisfied, thereby getting rid of the pulsing need for her.

 

But I quickly learned that with Khushi Kumari Gupta, nothing ever goes as planned.

 

The sight of her stammering as she failed to hide the evidence of her fondness for me had goaded me into taunting her.

 

She had blatantly denied ever having a crush on me, despite the appealing, heated blush rising to her cheeks.

 

She had bit down on her lower lip upon realizing that her voice was too high, laden with embarrassment at being caught.

 

And it had only fueled my desire more.

 

So I had done what I had thought would solve the situation.

 

I had challenged her, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to resist. Even in high school, Khushi Gupta had been insufferably competitive.

 

And she never turned down a challenge.

 

It hadn’t surprised me when she had flung herself at me, her lips molding to mine.

 

But it had surprised me that I couldn’t let go. My hands seemed to have a will of their own, and I longed to pull all the clothes off of her one by one, dropping them in a pile on the floor until she’s trembling with anticipation.

 

I wanted to see her eyes mirroring my own in their desire, to feel her thrust against me and hear her scream my name. I wanted to take her with blinding passion, and then again slowly and tenderly.

 

Her name had spilled from my lips at that moment, and the minute it was out, I knew that my raw desire and need for her was reflected in my voice.

 

The second I had seen her eyes, I knew that she knew it too.

 

My plan has gone horribly awry, something I haven’t experienced since my failure as the CEO of AR Corporations early in my career.

 

I thought that kissing her would solve everything, and the pounding need for her would fade away.

 

But as I search for the lingering taste of coconut on my lips, I realize that if anything, I want her more than ever.

 

Damn her.

 

-***-

Note: And that is where I shall leave you for today! I hope you enjoyed Arnav’s perspective on what’s happened- and I think this should clarify whether or not the feelings were reciprocated back in high school, and what he’s thinking right now. The next chapter will be Khushi again- I don’t think Arnav will make an appearance any time soon, but he’ll be back eventually. 

I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to have an update out next week- I certainly hope so, and I will keep you guys updated. Hopefully, I’ll at least have a teaser! Until the next update-

Love,

Choti

Chapter Four

He silently takes my thin coat as he places his hand on the small of my back, leading my shuddering body out to his car. I can’t read his expression, and it bothers me.

 

Is he judging me right now?

 

He sits me down, wrapping the coat around me as he slips into the driver’s seat and roars away. I don’t ask how he knows where we’re supposed to be going, since I never told him.

 

To my surprise, he pulls up to his penthouse building, parking quickly in a spot. I follow him blindly, not in a state of mind to question him.

 

The elevator ride up is awkward as we both stand against opposite corners of the small box, staring up at the mirrored ceiling and listening to the overly cheery piano music in the background.

 

My mind is numb from the encounter with my parents, and I can’t formulate sentences to break the silence. He walks out of the elevator quietly, quickly unlocking the door and holding it open for me.

 

He sits me down on the couch, grabbing a soft fleece blanket and throwing it over me. I sink into the soft, squishy pillows, allowing my head to rest against it.

 

He moves away to grab a DVD, and the machine hums as he slips it in. I glance sleepily at the screen to see the deep, overbearing voice of Amrish Puri reverberate through the room.

 

I sit up in shock, completely taken aback by Arnav’s choice for a movie. I had expected him to pick something serious, a political thriller, but instead, he’s put on DDLJ.

 

“Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge?”

 

“I have a sister.”

 

“Anjali is your excuse?”

 

“Shut up and watch, Khushi.”

 

I fall silent, my eyes focused on the movie playing in front of me. Shah Rukh Khan shamelessly flirting with Kajol in a train has a calming effect, and I instantly feel at ease as I watch him dance around the stage to saxophones.

 

I feel Arnav’s gaze on me, and I turn to face him. He doesn’t look embarrassed at being caught staring, and only continues to trace my face slowly with his eyes. I can feel my heart fly into my throat at his heated stare, and the burning sensation of his admiration surprises me.

 

“Your… glasses look nice, Chashmish.”

 

My mouth falls open in shock, and he gives me a small grin before turning back to the TV. I continue to stare at him with my mouth hanging open, the movie completely forgotten.

 

Without warning, he leans over and gently pushes up on my jaw, closing my mouth for me as his fingers drag against the sensitive skin underneath my chin. A tremble shoots through me, and I can’t help myself from leaning into the warmth of his fingertips.

 

“Close your mouth and watch the movie, Khushi.”

 

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the overwhelming, unprecedented desire pulsing through me. I attempt to focus on the love story playing out on the scene, trying to forget the man sitting next to me who makes my senses go haywire.

 

Just as Kajol turns to leave, my eyes flit back to Arnav. I nearly burst out laughing at the sight.

 

He’s sitting on the couch beside me, completely into the movie. His eyes haven’t left the screen, and I can see him silently mouthing the lines as she walks away.

 

“Palat… Palat…”

 

A bright grin bursts his face when she turns around to look at him one, last time, and I find myself smiling as well.

 

I lean against the pillow, my head resting lightly on his warm shoulder. Within minutes, I am asleep, completely lost to my exhaustion.

 

I wake up to the smell of pizza wafting into my nose, and my stomach grumbles loudly as I realize I haven’t eaten anything since this morning. I squint my eyes, even the soft light of the room adding to my painful headache.

 

“You snore.”

 

I shoot him a glare, and he walks over holding pizza in his hands. The top is covered with colorful vegetables, and I itch to take a bite of the warm cheese that’s sure to only melt further in my mouth.

 

“You made this?”

 

“I like to cook.”

 

I sink my teeth into the pizza, and nearly moan aloud at the delightful taste. The crust is crispy, just the way I like it, and the vegetables are well cooked and seasoned with the right amount of Italian spice. He’s even added the chili flakes I always pick up from Pizza Hut.

 

I open my eyes to see him staring at me, his eyes swirling with an emotion that unsettles me. His eyes are focused on my lips, and the expression makes my stomach drop to my toes. My entire body feels heated, and it’s not because of the nonexistent spice in the chili flakes.

 

“You have cheese there.”

 

I reach for the edge of my lips, rubbing at it to find nothing. I look up at him, searching for the familiar mischievous glint. But all I can see is that pool of dark caramel, darker than ever.

 

He reaches out and brushes a finger against my lips, capturing the stray piece of cheese that nestled itself on the other side. The sensation of his thumb brushing slowly against my lips is dizzying, and I fight to keep myself from closing my eyes in pleasure.

 

“If I had done that in high school, I think you would have fainted, Chashmish.”

 

My eyes snap up to his, and I finally find the glittering, teasing look I’ve been searching for. The corner of his lips is curved up in a smirk, and I blush deeply at his accusation.

 

The sixteen year old girl that was smitten with the boy in front of her is something I do not want to remember, now or ever. I can still remember the slicked plait I used to wear, complete with thick rimmed glasses and braces that changed color with my clothes.

 

“Chashmish! Chashmish! Hello? Are you in there?”

 

The hand waving in front of my face snaps me out of my reverie, and I realize I’m staring at him dreamily. He raises an eyebrow, a small smile on his face as he hands me the papers.

 

His fingertips brush against my own, and I giggle against my own will. I can see Payal rolling her eyes at me across the classroom, shooting me the classic best friend look that tells me I’m being too blatant.

 

“Chashmish… You look different.”

 

I turn bright pink as he surveys me, looking at me curiously. Did he notice my haircut?

 

“Did you…. Did you… Did your glasses get thicker?”

 

I feel the sting of tears, and I blink rapidly to keep them from spilling over. His careless statement still pulls at my chest painfully, and I can’t bring myself to reconcile this new Arnav with the one I knew before.

 

They always do say that your first love is the most painful.

 

“Is that a silent admitting of your crush on me?”

 

“I never liked you!”

 

Even to me, the pitch of my voice is too high, and I wince as it comes out. My denial is evident, and I can see the glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.

 

I’m tempted to give in, to admit that he’s right, but I can’t bring my ego to agree with me. This path of denial is hopeless, but I refuse to let that damn glimmer grow any bigger.

 

“Is that so?”

 

His voice is deceptively innocent, and I’m immediately on guard with the sugary tone. He leans towards me, and his cologne fills my space, making my head spin as he forces me back up against the edge of the couch.

 

His eyes drop to my lips, and I can’t help but do the same. My breathing comes in gasps, and I struggle to take in air as his breath washes over me.

 

“Y- yes. That is so.”

 

“So if I kissed you right now, you wouldn’t… Feel anything.”

 

“No. Forget you kissing me, I’ll kiss you and prove it.”

 

Before he can respond, I reach out and place my hands on the back of his neck, tugging him towards me.

 

I press my lips to his in a close mouthed kiss, fully intending to pull away after a peck. But his hands wrap around my waist and tug me onto his lap, my legs wrapping around him.

 

His tongue slides against my bottom lip, and I open my mouth to allow him better access. He immediately takes advantage of it, and my brain turns off as his hands thread through my hair, pulling the clip off and letting it tumble down my shoulders.

 

I’m forced to pull back to take in a shuddering breath, and I look at him directly in the eyes. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, the caramel turning into a rich, chocolate  brown, revealing his desire.

 

His eyes are focused on my parted lips, and they flick up to me for a split second before he takes my lips once more.

 

It’s a bruising kiss, and I’m pressed against the soft pillows as he bites down into my already tender lips. My hands cup his rough cheeks, slipping into his hair as he moves to press kisses along my jaw.

 

The kisses are delicate, the barest brush along my tingling skin, trailing down my neck. I squirm as the passion overtakes me, longing for more of his bare skin against mine.

 

My train of thought is completely lost when he dips his head to suckle my breast through the thin dress, his lips hot and wet against my covered skin. I arch up against him, crying out as his tongue swipes against the straining peak, almost painfully rubbing against the lace of my bra.

 

My cry of pleasure stirs something in him, and he frantically moves his lips back to mine as his hands knead my chest, his thumbs teasing the peaks of my breasts.

 

His kisses are long and deep, and I struggle to maintain control as my body responds to his relentless assault. I feel his fingers at the hem of my dress, brushing against the naked skin of my thighs.

 

The throbbing between my legs increases, and I shift my legs, trying to get his hand to slide further up towards where I need him.

 

He begins to lift the dress, and he groans as the tips of his fingers brush against my skin.

 

“Khushi…”

 

His voice is husky, dripping with desire as my name comes out in a moan. My eyes fly open, and I realize the compromising position we’re in.

 

We freeze as our eyes meet, and his hand stills against my skin, dropping my dress as if he’s been burned.

 

I hastily push him off of me, desperately searching for the lost clip. When I can’t find it, I pull my hair into a messy bun, grabbing my purse as I tug my dress down.

 

The ache between my legs hasn’t gone away, and I attempt to control my breathing as my traitorous body begs for his touch. I slip my heels on and stumble out of the door, ignoring his calls as I run down the stairs.

 

I sink against the brick wall, my head resting in my palms as the cool night air chills me to the bone.

 

What have I done?

-***-

Note: And that is where I’ll leave you for now! It’s a little bit shorter, but this chapter had to be stopped here. My AD editor is still editing, so I will be making slight changes- nothing plot wise- to the chapter once she gets back to me with it fully edited. I had to post today so I can be on track, just in case I can’t update while I’m away (I think I’ll be able to update once during this time, but I never know with these things). 

The next update should be by Wednesday/Thursday, or well- that’s when I’m hoping to get it up. As always, notifications for teasers and updates can be found on my Twitter @chotidesi or on this blog if you follow it. 

Love,

Choti

Teaser: Chapter Four

There is a teaser section at the top of the page, and I’ve just posted the teaser for the impending chapter.

Here’s a link, if anyone is having issues.

Enjoy! Chapter should be up by Sunday, US Time.

Chapter Three

“Screw you!”

 

Happy tosses the glass of wine straight into Arnav’s face, and my mouth falls open in shock. The camera continues rolling as he sits there, on the set of a fake beach, cheap liquor streaming down his face as she storms off.

 

“Uh… cut?”

 

“Arnav, you bought her a pink lingerie on the second date. What the hell?”

 

“Why didn’t he buy me pink lingerie? At least I would have appreciated it!”

 

Shyam storms off the set with that statement, muttering about pink lingerie and the crappy lighting as the door slams behind him.

 

“I don’t know! You told me to buy clothes, and these are the only clothes I can buy. I know nothing about dresses!”

 

“You’re supposed to take her to the custom tailor and pick out fabric, not buy lingerie yourself.”

 

“No one told me that!”

 

“And why would you buy her pink lingerie anyway? She wears black. All the time.”

 

“How would I know that?! I’m dating ten girls at the same time!”

 

A gasp fills the room, and Arnav’s eyes widen as he realizes he’s put his foot in his mouth. Or rather, he’s put his entire leg in his mouth.

 

Rajjo steps forward, a menacing look on her face as the other girls gang up behind her.

 

“Um. I mean, I-”

 

“How about we take a lunch break?”

 

NK ushers the the girls out of the room quickly, and I follow him out, grabbing a slice of cold, slightly spoiled pizza from four days ago on the way.

 

“Khushi, can I talk to you?”

 

NK shuts the door to the dressing room with all the girls. He looks worn and exhausted, with dark circles underneath his eyes. I can sympathize with him- both of us have been struggling since film school, and I’m grateful to him for giving me this chance.

 

We step into the closet he calls his office and he sinks into the chair, dropping his head into his hands. I sit awkwardly in the other chair, unsure of how to deal with this disillusioned NK. He was always one of the optimistic ones, and seeing him defeated is taking a toll on our entire team.

 

“Arushi quit.”

 

“She quit? What? Why?!”

 

“Better job opportunity. I mean, if you had the choice, would you really be here producing this idiotic show?”

 

I fall silent, knowing that I would have done the same thing if someone would actually accept my scripts.

 

“I need you to do me a favor. I need you to take up her position, at least until I can find a replacement.”

 

“What?! NK! You know Arnav and I don’t always see… eye to eye.”

 

“Khushi, please, I really need this from you. You would only have to brief him on the girls and prepare him for the dates. I promise, not much work outside of what you already do. Please?”

 

The pleading, desperate note in his voice breaks my resolve, and I nod despite my unwillingness to take up the position. I can’t say no to him, and I leave the room with an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.

 

-***-

 

I lift my fist up to bang on the door for the third time when a crabby Arnav swings it open, glaring at me with his arms crossed over his chest.

His hair lacks the copious amount of gel he usually wears, and it’s messy and hangs around his face. The scruffy stubble on his face only adds to his careless style, and I swallow tightly as my eyes rove over his body shamelessly.

 

He’s wearing squared, thin glasses and a pair of grey sweatpants that hangs low on his waist. His crimson Harvard sweatshirt is riding up, giving me a view of a toned strip of tanned skin as he lifts his arm to brush his hair out of his eyes.

 

I finally bring my eyes up to meet his, blushing profusely as I realize I’ve definitely been checking him out. His frown has been replaced by a cocky smirk, and he raises an eyebrow at the blatant approval I’m sure is clear in my expression.

 

“Did you come here to check me out or…?”

 

“I was not checking you out.”

 

“Really?”

 

I choose to ignore his statement and push my way into his penthouse. It’s immaculate, much to my surprise, and decorated sparsely with the highest quality furniture. It looks a lot like my own apartment, except with furniture that is much better kept.

 

“Arushi quit.”

 

He doesn’t seem surprised by my statement, and I don’t expect him to be. After all, he is my boss, and she would have handed her resignation into him.

 

“I’m aware.”

 

“I’m her replacement.”

 

If he is surprised, he doesn’t show it. He merely nods his approval, before calmly turning and walking away into his apartment.

 

I’m left in the middle of a large, airy penthouse, completely uncertain of how to react. I follow him into a large kitchen, furnished with top of the line appliances. He calmly pours milk into a pot and grating ginger.

 

He hands me a cup of chai, leaning comfortably against the shining granite countertops. The chai smells divine, and my tensed nerves instantly calm with the addition of the steaming drink.

 

“You know, I don’t know why we need someone briefing me on all these women.”

 

“Because you do the commendable act of buying a woman lingerie when we tell you to buy her a present.”

 

“None of my other dates have minded much.”

 

I roll my eyes, and he grins impishly. Leaning against the countertop, he looks almost boyish, proud of his not-so-subtle innuendo relating to all the experience he claims to have.

 

I can see the Arnav from high school in him right now, the one that took great pleasure in telling our entire math class how great his weekend with Ashley Westin was after prom.

 

“Just how many women have you slept with?”

 

The question slips out without a second thought, and I’m forced to curse my lack of filter yet again.

 

“Are you asking for my number?”

 

I barely restrain yet another eye roll at the mock horror in Arnav’s voice, and I see a smug smirk curve his lips as I take another sip of the chai, attempting to mask my embarrassment at my slip.

 

“No. I’m not asking for your ‘number’”

 

“Are you… jealous?”

 

I snap my eyes to him furiously, and I can immediately tell that he’s enjoying this immensely.

 

His eyes sparkle with mischief as he stares at me over the rim of his cup, the steaming liquid lightly fogging up his glasses. A chunk of hair flops over his forehead, and I curse the odd itch in my hand begging me to run my fingers through it and brush it back.

 

I nervously push my own glasses up my nose, pulling my loose hair into a tight, severe bun at the nape of my neck.

 

His eyes follow my hand, and his knowing, slightly condescending expression sets me on edge.

 

“W-Why would I care? I’m not one of the ten women dating you.”

 

“But you wish you could be.”

 

“You’re insufferably arrogant.”

 

“So you didn’t have a huge crush on me in high school?”

 

My mouth falls open in indignation, and I toss the cup in the sink and storm out of the room. I can hear him chuckling behind me, and I fight to keep control over my emotions. Revealing any more of my frustration would only validate his claim, and I refuse to let him have that satisfaction.

 

“Tonight, 8 PM! Wear formal clothes. Don’t be late!”

 

-***-

 

“And the final rose… goes to Manorama.”

 

Arnav hands Manorama the rose as she walks up, sniffling and wiping her red nose with a tissue as she blows into it with a loud honk. She juts out her chin and sniffs proudly as she walks past Happy, making a scathing remark as she passes by.

 

“Hmph. Sorry, Happy. Next time, you might want to try to wear bright red lipstick and some more makeup like me. You’ll never be as beautiful, but you would look prettier than that.”

 

Happy rolls her eyes, not looking the least bit offended as Manorama walks up to Arnav.

 

“Thank you, Arnav. I was worried you would not see through my beautifulness, and I would have to go home. But it would be your loss, because I am much more beautiful than you.”

 

He gives her an incredulous look, but she’s already sashaying away, her neon, lime green, and magenta checkered pants blinding the entire set.

 

“Cut!”

 

The other girls hold roses in the corner, bright smiles pasted on their faces as they giggle together, looking over their shoulders at Arnav as they walkout.

 

NK turns to Happy, grasping her by the shoulders and shaking her. This is the fourth time we’ve shot her leaving, and she has the same stone faced expression every time.

 

“Happy, try to look a little bit more upset about leaving, please. You’re supposed to be crying. Not stone faced.”

 

She gives NK a blank look, her dark, jagged hair falling into her eyes. She’s wearing even more makeup than before, and has added a new chain to the belt holding up her dark black jeggings.

 

He gives me the cue to start the camera again, and Arnav walks up to her, gently guiding her by placing his hand on her lower back.

 

“I’m sorry, Happy. It’s never easy to send anyone home, and I-”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not sorry. Good riddance. This show is stupid.”

 

NK sighs, gritting his teeth.

 

“Cut! Let’s shoot Happy’s final statements, now, shall we?”

 

Happy trudges over to the car, rolling her eyes as I place her where I want her to be, zooming in on her face as she stares at me with blatant disdain.

 

“Action.”

 

“He bought me lingerie. If he had bought me a whip and a hot, black g-string, I would have been more excited. But he bought me a light pink, matching pair of panties and a bra.”

 

“Cut! Happy, that’s not what you’re-”

 

She whips around, giving NK the death glare. He holds up his hands in surrender, and nods to me to continue shooting.

 

I lift my eyes to the heavens as Happy leaves, muttering curse words underneath her breath.

 

One down, nine more to go.

 

-***-

 

The chubby, rosy cheeked baby coos at me from the bright, blue mat. I smile uncomfortably at her as she scoots across the mat towards a particularly colorful toy, her eyes wide with excitement.

 

“God, babies are tough work.”

 

Payal plops down beside me on the worn couch, wiping the spit up off her gray tshirt and smiling up at me tiredly.

 

“She’s uh… getting big.”

 

Payal smiles brightly, her entire face lighting up as she reached down to pick up baby Piya. Piya giggles, stuffing an entire fist into her mouth and releasing a string of drool down her chin. I force a smile on my face and scooch backwards.

 

“She is, isn’t she? My little Piya’s getting to be a big girl now!”

 

She continues to giggle with Piya, and I desperately try to tame the frustration bubbling in my stomach. As an unwed woman without a child, I’m hardly allowed to get irritated over my best friend cooing over her adorable baby.

 

But I do.

 

She finally rocks Piya to sleep, and turns a gentle smile towards me as she holds the baby in her arms, cradling her to her chest.

 

“I heard Arnav Singh Raizada is the new Bachelor.”

 

Of course, that’s the first thing she asks. I avert my eyes at the wicked grin on her face, bracing for a reminiscing session of memories I don’t want to remember.

 

“He is.”

 

“And…?”

 

“And?”

 

“Come on, Khushi! There has to be something more to the story. You crushed on him for all four years of high school.”

 

“I didn’t crush. I admired his… Talent.”

 

“At looking sexy?”

 

“You’re married!”

 

“So?”

 

She winks saucily, adjusting Piya in her arms as she shifts to face me better.

 

“There’s nothing to tell, Payal. We barely get along as it is.”

 

My phone beeps with a text, and I glance down to see Arnav’s name written neatly across the screen, with “Where are we meeting tonight? ;)” just underneath it.

 

I look up, and Payal gives me a knowing look. I know she’s seen the text, and I mentally berate Arnav’s terrible timing.

 

“Nothing, you said?”

 

“It’s a business dinner. I’m… coaching him. On the girls.”

 

“Are you planning on demonstrating this too?”

 

She winks, and I shoot her a half hearted glare.

 

“Pregnancy has made you hormonal. And horny.”

 

Just then, her phone lights up with Akash’s face, the husky voice of crooning into the air. A bashful smile overtakes her face, and she gently hands Piya to me, ignoring my protests as she leaves to take the call.

 

I hold her uncomfortably, unsure of how I should hold this sleeping, tiny creature. Her dark eyelashes rest against her cheeks, and she has tufts of hair flying out from her head. Her hands are small, with even smaller fingers that press against my chest as she snuggles into me.

 

She smells of the familiar, comforting baby smell, and I find myself inhaling deeply as I begin to hum softly underneath my breath, rocking her gently in time with the rhythm.

 

“Oh my god, thank you so much! I’m sorry, I had to take that- you know Akash’s mom can be a little… difficult.”

 

Payal whisks her daughter out of my arms, and I realize that I’m almost unwilling to let her go.

 

After Payal leaves my apartment, I sink into the couch, the smell of baby powder lingering on my hands.

 

-***-

 

I push open the door to my parents house and hear hushed whispering. It’s the first time I’ve been back since the disastrous party, and I’m still hurting from that night.

 

My simple black dress feels too tight as I step gingerly into my childhood home in heels, slipping them off gently and testing them at the door.

 

I hear my mother’s soft tones, gently washing over my father’s stern, gruff voice. I pause in the hallway for a minute, overwhelmed by memories of my childhood.

 

“Garima! Garima, look, Khushi won her fifth grade writing contest!”

 

“My daughter is an amazing writer. She recently got her poetry published in Cicada, didn’t you hear? Here, let me show you!”

 

“She’s multi talented, my Khushi. She wins math bees and writing contests!”

 

The force of my former relationship with my father hits me with staggering force, and I stumble back against the familiar wall. My eyes burn with unshed tears, and I brush at them hastily, not willing to let them spill over,

 

Another memory makes its way to the front of my mind, but this time, it reflects the current state.

 

“Bauji, look! I got into NYU’s film school on a full scholarship!”

 

“Film school? Beta, I thought you were going to be a doctor. Or an engineer.”

 

“No Bauji, I like science but… I love writing more.”

 

“Writing? Ha, just because you won a few writing contests here and there, you think you can make your living as a writer? That’s not how the world works, Khushi. Life isn’t fair.”

 

I recall the tears that streamed down my face that day, and the slamming of the doors that ended up reflecting upon my relationship with my father as well. The doors to a happy father-daughter relationship closed the day I accepted NYU’s offer, and it hasn’t been the same since.

 

“… She just doesn’t understand, Garima. She’s not going to make it. It’s hard out there, can’t she see? She’s not… She can’t. She has to get married.”

 

I can hear the disapproving, pessimistic tone in my father’s voice as I push open the door, my anger knowing no bounds. The sting of the betrayal is stronger than ever, and I shake as I stand in front of my shocked parents.

 

“Khushi, bitiya, you came?”

 

“I am not going to get married. I don’t care what you do, what you say, or whether or not you believe in me. I’m an independent woman, and I can hold my own in “this world” you keep talking about. I don’t have to listen to you tell me how I will be a failure. Our relationship is over.”

 

I ignore my mother’s harrowed pleas and sweep out of the room, my throat tightening painfully as I try to contain my tears.

 

I open the door to walk right into the man I’m supposed to meet in five minutes. I can hear my mother crying behind the door, begging me to come back, and my father’s cold indifference.

 

One look into his face, and I immediately know that he has heard. Everything.

-***-

Note: And that’s a wrap for this chapter. I’m hoping to get an update out this weekend (but I’m not sure, it depends on how busy my weekend is), so we can hit Chapter Six before I go on vacation through June. While I’m on vacation, I’m not entirely sure how often updates will come. I will keep you posted, and I will not abandon this- I’m hoping to stick to my schedule, but it’s highly subjective to how much internet access I’ll have. 

Love,

Choti

Teaser: Chapter Three

There is a teaser section at the top of the page, and I’ve just posted the teaser for the impending chapter. 

 

Here’s a link, if anyone is having issues.

 

Enjoy! Chapter should be up by Wednesday, US Time (hopefully earlier, if my proof reader gets me the updates soon!)